


An Ill-Treated Hiccup

by milkandhoney



Series: Drarryland Prompts 2019 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drarryland: A Drarry Game/Fest, Hiccups, M/M, Slight Frottage, Wedding Reception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 03:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandhoney/pseuds/milkandhoney
Summary: Odd, Draco thinks, that it's not Snape’s words nor his father’s, but Remus Lupin's that choose to haunt him in moments like these.Never pay yourself the disservice of being too comfortable.





	An Ill-Treated Hiccup

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter & all licensing belongs to JK Rowling.  
> Thank you [goldfwish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfwish) for the beta. All mistakes are my own.

Shards fly as the champagne flute between them shatters. Then another. It's wandless * _and_ * wordless, the first instance of Draco doing either in Harry's presence. It’s also the first time he’s done it without meaning to. Because he was mad. Furious, even, and it’d risen to the surface like a stray thought. Like a hiccup. Actions only registered after the fact, already in progress and too late to stop. 

The guests are long gone, every candelabra extinguished, and Draco wonders if he’s responsible for that too. An empty ballroom plunged into darkness, doing nothing to hide the disquiet on Harry’s face after his eyes adjust. Some perverse side of Draco considers it a compliment. Shocking Potter, being watched by Potter, wanting Potter. He’s all too aware of the furious arousal that courses through him, watching the other man’s stance shift from relaxed to defensive in the space of a heartbeat. 

Harry Potter is preparing for pain. For the threat of being hurt by him. 

Odd, Draco thinks, that it's not Snape’s words nor his father’s, but Remus Lupin's that choose to haunt him in moments like these. 

* _Never pay yourself the disservice of being too comfortable_ *.

"That make you feel better?" Harry's breath is ragged in the dark. A chair scraps, setting Draco's teeth on edge. "Throwing a bloody tantrum?!" 

"Fuck. You." 

His voice sounds closer now. Softer. “I’m sorry.”

Draco stumbles back, crushing a discarded bouquet underfoot. "You don't get to say that to me, Potter. Not anymore."

"But you’ll do what you want and I’m supposed to say fuck all.” There's anger, real anger now, seeping into Harry's voice. "Even about people I love.”

“You’re supposed to love _me_!” Draco explodes. “Not pit me against them!” 

“Pit you-- You think I like this?"

_This_ , was the once elegant ballroom where they'd gathered to congratulate Weasley and Granger, before George Weasley approached them to say what he really thought of Draco’s presence. _This_ , was the ill-fated trip to Diagon Alley where Draco’d chosen to use his words instead of his wand, and found both equally destructive. _This_ , was the first time they'd fucked, _really_ fucked, and Draco's hands had found their way over Harry's mouth and around his throat, even as the orgasm slammed through him with so much force that Draco had cried out, tears in his eyes.

"You don't have to like it to want it." Draco clenches his fists. Another hiccup. "That’s exactly why you're still here. Because you want me and you _hate_ yourself for it."

A Pause. Half a second too late. "You're wrong."

"Yeah?" Draco strides forward and shoves with both hands. Harry's expecting the force but not the sharp jab of Draco's knee, and stumbles back wildly before hitting the ground. Draco throws himself down on top of him, straddling Harry, so that he lies winded between Draco's knees amid a sea of petals and glass. 

"Not embarrassed of me?" Slowly, Draco slides his hands over the ridges of Harry's chest, fists curling into his dress robes for leverage as he starts to circle his hips. "Don't pity me at all?"

"Draco."

He finds Harry's eyes in the dim, doesn't break contact as he grinds down. There's an answering lift in Harry's hips, the faint jump of his cock within his trousers as it stirs. 

"Want to mold me into your image, Harry? Fuck the pureblood out of me?" Draco presses his lips to Harry's ear. "Every mad thought? Every cruel word I've ever said?"

"You want me to apologize again," Harry grits out, his breath hitching. Dark curls obscure his scar, his forehead damp with a thin sheen of sweat. "For wanting you to be better." 

"No."

Abruptly, Draco stops. Stands on shaky legs. Harry sits up, wild eyed as Draco steps back and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't bother to hide the fact that he's hard when he readjusts his robes. He wants Harry to feel at least some regret, even if it's nothing close to the kind coursing through him in this moment.

"For not wanting me the way I am."


End file.
